


who'll stop the rain?

by Sleepymachine



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Parents, Domestic Violence, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Religion, Religious Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 01:24:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4459898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepymachine/pseuds/Sleepymachine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>backstory/current-story for my ocs August and Basil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	who'll stop the rain?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chance!](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=chance%21).



_August sighs, pulling his backpack tighter over his shoulder. Ten minutes late. He'd been ten minutes late to get home, and he knew he'd never hear the end of it._

"Do you  _know_ what you did?" his father's voice is loud and clear, despite the fact that there's a wall between them. 

"I was late," August's voice is small and shaky compared to his fathers, hot tears already threatening to blot out his vision. This isn't the first time he's been late-sometimes the bus was slow-and it's not the first time his fathers gotten angry. 

"You're ungrateful, is what you are." his father barks, hand colliding with the door after every word. "You're an ungrateful little bastard of a child!" 

"I'm  _sorry!"_ August tries to stop himself from crying, to no avail.

His father seems to think it's pointless to keep yelling, and stomps back downstairs. August slides down the wall, hands balled into trembling fists.  He's incredibly glad he'd had the sense to lock his door. He doesn't want to know what kind of trouble he'd be in if his father found out he was sobbing like a child. He feels _pathetic, and small, and disgusting_. He doesn't want to be a disappointment to his father, but something about the words his father spouted every evening seemed  _wrong._

He'd known about hell since he was old enough to understand it, and knew he was meant to be afraid of it. He was afraid of everything really, thanks to his father. He tried his best-read the bible, prayed at night, said grace-but at the end of the day he was always a "horrible bastard child" in his father's eyes. After a while, he wasn't afraid of hell, so much as his father's punishment. He can't understand what he's feeling-  _was he afraid of God, or his father? -_ until his fear and confusion eventually make way for sadness and anger.  _Why would god let his father punish him? Couldn't god see he was trying his best? What more could he do?_

After a while, his father comes back up the stairs. August can smell the smoke from underneath the door, only slightly masking the booze. In a voice no quieter than earlier, he states that August needs to "go the fuck to bed". 

August puts himself to bed, making sure his prayers were longer and clearer than the usual mumbled grace. 

 


End file.
